"But of no social standing."
"Tell me why all the Mischienza ladies courtesied to me after so courtly a fashion," he asked.
"They like it. It is part of their life. You must know that nothing pleases a woman of fashion more than to bow and courtesy before every person of royalty, and to count those who precede her out of a room."
"Surely, Margaret, you are no such menial?" He compressed his lips as he glanced at her sharply. He had never before called her by her first name nor presumed to take this liberty. It was more a slip of the tongue than an act of deliberate choice, yet he would not have recalled the word. His concern lay in her manner of action.
"And why not a menial?" Evidently she took no notice of his presumption, or at least pretended not to do so. "Piety is by no means the only motive which brings women to church. Position in life is precisely what one makes it."
"Does social prestige appeal to you then?"
"I love it." She did not talk to him directly for her attention was being centered upon the activities on the floor. "I think that a woman who can dress with taste and distinction possesses riches above all computation. See Mrs. Reed, there. How I envy her!"
"The wife of the President of the Council?" he asked apprehensively, bending forward in the direction of the floor.
"The same. She enjoys a position of social eminence. How I hate her for it." She tapped the floor with her foot as she spoke.
"You mean that you dislike her less than you envy her position?"